


After the Mission

by neverfinishe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1695608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverfinishe/pseuds/neverfinishe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's exhausted after a mission with Bucky, and Steve takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for this ( http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/19023.html?thread=44236879#t44236879 ) prompt at the kink meme. First wingfic and CA fic! Two in one.

Sam groans as he falls onto the bed. Every part of him is sore. He’s been cramped in an unreasonably small space for days as a back up for Bucky.

He doesn’t mind helping, but he plans to sleep for at least fourteen hours now that he’s not worried about one of the two idiots he’s grown fond of getting himself killed.

He winces and twists his body slightly as his wings spread out. No amount of squirming will ease the tension held in them, but he knows he can’t do much about that. They should feel a little better by the morning. A couple of days, and he should feel as good as new.

In the morning, he plans to work his fingers through them. That’s always helped. He’s too tired and too sore to bother moving for now. He’s counting on being exhausted enough to doze despite the discomfort.

“That doesn’t look comfortable,” Steve’s familiar voice fills the room.

Sam waves a hand lazily. He doesn’t even bother opening his eyes. It’s not comfortable, thank you. His wings are spread out and hanging off of the bed. It puts more of a strain on them, but he’s not moving.

He listens to Steve shift around, moving things as he goes. He still doesn’t open his eyes.

Just as he begins to drift off, he feels a hand very gently lifting one of his wings. He startles slightly and tries to pull away. He curses under his breath and grips the sheets tight for a moment.

“Sorry,” Steve says quietly. He brushes his fingers over a few feathers to get Sam to relax again.

“’s’kay.”

Sam eases after a moment. He feels his wing come to rest on something and smiles a little. Steve might be his favorite.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Steve moves around to the other side and does the same thing, resting Sam’s other wing on a chair. “Hopefully it will help you sleep better.”

Sam knows it will. With his wings resting on something level, there’s a lot less stress put on them.

The mattress shifts with Steve’s weight. Steve settles with his legs crossed, “Can I?”

“Normally I’d tell you you’d have to buy me dinner first.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a fond smile. He can see a hint of a one of Sam’s grins, but his face is partially obscured by the way it’s mashed into the mattress.

“I’ve done that a few times.”

“Bucky ok?”

Sam knows he is. His injuries were fairly minor, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying. He’s seen both of them walk around with wounds that would kill anyone else.

“Irritated. Stark’s here,” Steve says with a hint of amusement in his voice. As much as Tony can get on Bucky’s nerves, they got along when it comes to creating trouble. Throw Clint or Sam in the mix and it’s a complete nightmare.

Steve begins to work his fingers through the feathers as he speaks. He’s done this enough times to have the process down well.

Sam relaxes as he drifts off. The fingers in his feathers are gentle, and it makes it that much easier for him to go to sleep. He still remembers the first time Steve had done this for him. Bucky does it too, but only when he’s asked. He’s afraid of hurting him, apparently. It doesn’t help that, the first time Bucky tried, the metal in his fingers snagged on a feather.

He’s not sure how long he’s been out, but the sun is up. There are two warm somethings pressed into his side, and it takes him another moment to process that they’re breathing and radiating heat. He cracks an eye open to see a mess of brown hair. That only leaves one option as to the identity of the other portable heater, since Natasha is the one that steals warmth.

Neither seem to be awake, so he settles again. A little more sleep won’t hurt.


End file.
